


Totally Alive

by AnneCumberbatch



Series: Sometimes in the Evening [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring John Watson, Domestic John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, False Alarm, M/M, Panic, Scared Sherlock, Sometimes in the Evening, Teasing John Watson, domestic life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 15:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch
Summary: “Never discussed what to do when a man breaks into the flat and murders me?” John raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I’m pretty damn sure he would be the one to not make it out of here alive.”





	Totally Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Always interested in prompts/ideas for new works!

“JOHN” Sherlock’s voice rang frantically throughout the flat, his footsteps thundering up the stairs. His hands tore at the banister, propelling him up the steps and into the living room, his eyes raking over the empty room before bolting into the kitchen and then flinging open the bathroom door. He ran into the bedroom and caught John standing at the foot of their bed, taken aback, eyes wide, by Sherlock’s abrupt entrance, a bedsheet halfway folded in his arms. Sherlock immediately darted over to him, throwing the sheet aside and ran his arms up and down John’s body, checking for injuries. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay. Are you hurt? Did someone attack you?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. _Sherlock._ ” John clamped his hands across Sherlock’s arms, stilling him. “What the hell? You just gave me a heart attack, but other than that I am completely and utterly _fine_. What’s gotten into you?”

Sherlock felt his knees buckle beneath him and sank to sit on the half-made bed. “I… He said…” He leaned forward, pressing his face against John’s abdomen, resting his hands on John’s hips and pulling him close.

John ran a gentle hand through his hair. “Who said what, my love?”

Sherlock took a shuddered breath, attempting to calm his racing heartbeat. “Lestrade…”

“Sherlock, you’re not making sense. Greg would never hurt me.”

Sherlock shook his head. “Lestrade told me there was a man in holding who had been bragging that he had broken into our home and killed you.” His eyes closed tightly and pressed closer to John. “He gave vivid enough details that Lestrade called me at Bart’s. I called you again and again but you didn’t answer your mobile. I thought… I thought he…” An anguished gasp shook Sherlock’s body as his mind comprehended the horror of that possibility.

“Jesus.” John sank to the bed and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. “I’m here. I’m okay. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t telling the truth. No one’s been here and I am perfectly safe and alive.” John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek before raising one of his hands to press against John’s chest. “See? Heartbeat. Totally alive.”

Sherlock melted into his embrace and closed his eyes, his focus absorbing the calming thumping of John’s heartbeat through his hand. He hummed softly as the panic slowly receded.

John ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair, his other arm wrapped firmly around Sherlock’s shoulders. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.” 

Sherlock clung to him. “If something were to ever happen to you…”

John kissed the top of his head. “Shhh. I don’t want you talking like that.”

“But I think it’s time we discuss this. We’ve never discussed this.” Sherlock raised his head to look at him.

“Never discussed what to do when a man breaks into the flat and murders me?” John raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I’m pretty damn sure he would be the one to not make it out of here alive.”

Sherlock huffed and resumed his position against John’s chest. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

John rocked him gently. “Sorry, no, I am, I am. It’s just… we deal with danger every day. It’s inevitable that one of us will get hurt someday. It’s possible one of us will die. But that just makes me enjoy every moment I have with you more.”

Sherlock gave him a look. “You’re being irritatingly logical about this.”

“What did you want to do, discuss wills and burial arrangements?” Sherlock paled and pressed closer against John. John sighed and rubbed his hand over Sherlock’s back. “Right, sorry. Too soon, I suppose.

“Far too soon.” Sherlock muttered. “You can’t die before I do.”

“That’s my boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen, selfish to the core.” John murmured as he kissed Sherlock’s curls. “You are aware, I’m sure, that I will most likely have no control over the matter?”

“All too aware, John.” Sherlock straightened and ran his hands through his hair, his fingers pulling through his curls.  “I have no idea how to keep you safe.”

“You don’t have to. I can take care of myself.” John gave him a small smile.

Sherlock groaned and stood, moving to pace in front of where they were sitting. “I cannot allow your life to rely on just you. It’s too valuable. There must be better safeguards. Perhaps we should get a personal protection dog of some sort. Mycroft could get us one from the military. We could continue to train it here. It could follow you everywhere, I’m sure we could get a license for that. You could-”

John grabbed at him. “Sherlock, stop! We are not getting a dog.”

Sherlock looked at him in despair, breathing heavily. “Of course, we are.”

“No. No, we’re not. Sit back down, please.” John pulled him back towards the bed. Sherlock reluctantly lowered himself down to the mattress. John placed his hand on Sherlock’s cheek. “We’re not getting a dog. This was a frightening thing that you experienced tonight, but that is not enough reason to buy a sodding protection dog to attack people. I know you want to protect me, to do something active about this, but you can’t, my love. All you can do is take care of yourself. And maybe lock the door behind you before you come storming up the stairs and scaring me to death.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he whirled out of the room, heading for the stairs. John reached out a hand to stop him, but he was already gone. John could hear the thumping descending, a faint click as the front door locked, then the noise of a much calmer detective walking up the stairs. John sighed and stood back up, grabbing the sheet he had been in the process of folding before Sherlock had tossed it across the room, and began refolding it. Once he had finished, he turned to see Sherlock watching him from the doorway with an expression of grief lining his face. “Sherlock…” John held out his hand towards his beloved and murmured his name softly. “Don’t be sad.”

Sherlock took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled into an embrace. “I almost lost you tonight.”

“But you didn’t, actually.” John pulled back a little to look at him. “You didn’t even begin to lose me tonight. Nothing happened. It was all in your head.”

Sherlock looked uncomfortable at that thought. “Not entirely. Lestrade is also at fault. And you for not picking up your mobile.”

“Yes.” John gave him a peck. “We’re both horrible people and I’m sure you’ll find a way to make sure we’re both sorry later. Now, go wash up and I’ll make you a cuppa, okay?”

Sherlock exhaled softly. “Alright.”

“Good.” John smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, questions, critiques, are always welcome. Thank you for reading!


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